


A Room Full of Emotions

by SophiaHawkins



Category: Frasier (TV)
Genre: Ep: Room Full of Heroes, Halloween
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:08:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28362921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophiaHawkins/pseuds/SophiaHawkins
Summary: Niles tries to apologize to Martin for his behavior at the party, and a piece of dialogue from "Our Father, Whose Art Ain't Heaven" comes full circle between Martin and his boys.
Kudos: 3





	A Room Full of Emotions

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at a Frasier story, originally published on FF around Halloween. I thought there should've been something more conclusive at the end, and thought the infamous scene from "Our Father, Whose Art Ain't Heaven" was a nice spin to put on it. Hope you enjoy it!

A Room Full of Emotions

Halloween had ended hours ago. Niles had long since changed out of his costume of his dad, but he hadn't gone home, though he'd sent Daphne. He'd made up a lame excuse of already feeling hung over and didn't want to throw up in the car ride home, that he'd just sleep it off here on the couch and then see her in the morning. He'd changed into a spare set of Frasier's pajamas and borrowed a spare robe to go with them. For all he knew, Daphne bought his pathetic lie, the truth was he didn't want to go home until he'd found a way to patch things up with his dad, even though he wasn't sure how. He didn't want to take a chance that Martin would slip out of the apartment tomorrow morning before he had a chance to come over and apologize. Instead he sat on the couch for hours and stewed over the events of the night. Oh God, how did he manage to screw things up so much? Why didn't he just keep his mouth shut? So what if the thoughts he gave voice to had actually circled in his mind off and on through the years, that wasn't any excuse to bring them out into the open. He knew, past the surface of the hurt he felt of his dad's constant disinterest in anything that ever meant anything to him, Niles _knew_ that his dad was always proud of him. And he had always been proud of his dad, he always looked up to him, he always respected him, when he was a child he wanted to be like him, until he found out his father liked sports, then he decided he wanted to be like his mom.

How had things gone so horribly wrong? They'd all been having a good time, and then he blew it. That stupid game, those stupid rules. 'Your hero's biggest disappointment'. That was easy for Frasier to say, what _was_ Freud's biggest disappointment? Did anybody know? Did anybody even care? Did even _Freud_ know what Freud's biggest disappointment was? But why had he said it? Why had he carried on after his initial answer? Oh how he wished he could go back to earlier that night and tell himself to zip it before things went too far.

Martin had stormed off to his room after that, and he hadn't come back out since. Niles instinctively knew that he should just go talk to him, apologize and try to explain, but this was his _father_. You couldn't _just_ talk to your parent when you hurt their feelings like you could your brother, Frasier could understand it, his dad didn't, and Niles wasn't entirely sure he blamed his dad. It was one thing to snipe your brother, it was another to hurt your father's feelings, and tell him you thought he was an absent drunk who didn't care about his kids because they didn't live up to his ideals.

Niles didn't know how long he sat on the couch, but it dawned on him at one point he'd fallen asleep sitting up. He opened his eyes and heard a noise coming from the kitchen. His first thought was that a burglar had somehow sneaked in. Then common sense told him a burglar wouldn't be looking for valuables in the refrigerator, the odds of a burglar having good taste in wine and cheese…

Dad! It had to have been his dad that was up rifling through the fridge. Niles hopped to his feet and quietly went to the kitchen. He wasn't sure yet what he was going to say, but he had to make it good, and he had to make his father understand that he hadn't really meant what he'd said.

His eyes had trouble adjusting to the brightness from the bulb in the fridge, though his dad's robe clad figure blocked most of the illumination.

"Dad?" he asked quietly, testing the waters. If Martin heard him, he made no sign of it. Niles took another step and asked, almost as quietly as the first time. "Dad?" Still nothing. Niles took another step, and came up right behind Martin and said louder, "Dad?"

"AHH!" Martin jumped and turned around, clutching his chest. "What the hell's wrong with you? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

"Dad, I'm sorry!" Niles said, "I wasn't trying to scare you, I just wanted to talk to you."

"Well I got nothing to say to you," Martin told him and bitterly added, "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got some beer that demands my attention." He turned back around.

"Dad," Niles hadn't worked his apology out in his head yet but he knew he had to say something, so he just started talking, "Dad, I wanted to apologize for what I said tonight. Everything I said, and did, was totally out of line, I don't even know _why_ I said those things, I feel just awful." No response, Niles pressed further, "I guess part of it was just my own frustration…my _own_ greatest disappointment, that no matter how much I tried, I could never be the son you wanted me to be. I always knew how much you wanted us to be in sports, God knows I tried my best but I just wasn't any good, but you didn't give up, you kept trying…we just never got anywhere with it. Deep down, I _know_ you're proud of me…even if you don't brag about me to your friends. But I hope you also know that I've always been proud of you...even if I don't brag about you to my friends." There was still no response from the man with his back to Niles, but he continued, "You were a decorated police officer, you put your life on the line to protect people every single day, of course I was always proud of you, I just hated it that there was never anything we shared in common that we could do together that we both enjoyed like other fathers and sons did. Some times I wished I did have an interest in sports, or that I could actually catch a ball with my hand instead of my face…or that I could get on a bicycle without falling right off of it…or, that I could just be a regular guy to sit and have a beer with, if I could've then we could've bonded over that, but for whatever reason, it's just never worked, and I don't want you to think that that's…"

Niles saw his father's head slump down as he continued to look in the refrigerator at nothing in particular.

"Dad, are you alright?" Niles asked.

Martin shifted his gaze to the shelves in the door, his head still lowered.

"Dad, is something wrong?" Niles asked.

Martin wordlessly shook his head and raised his arm towards his face, but wouldn't turn to face his son. Niles felt his chest tightening.

"Oh my God, Dad, are you crying?" he asked.

"No," Martin answered, not convincingly whatsoever.

"Yes you are," Niles said, "I just saw you wipe your face."

"No you didn't," Martin insisted as he closed the door and moved away from the fridge and over towards the sink, "Just quit looking at me."

Niles' chest got tighter, and his voice started to break. "Oh my God…I made my father cry."

"Now don't _you_ start," Martin told him.

Niles felt his throat tighten with tears and he said, "I'm only crying because you're crying."

"I'm _not_ crying," Martin insisted, "I don't know what this is. I didn't even cry when I got shot." Using his cane, he quickly walked out of the kitchen.

Niles was bawling now as he followed his father and said, "I didn't cry when you got shot either."

"Would you two _stop_ saying that?" Martin asked as he walked over to the couch and stopped, and sat down on the arm.

"Please, please stop crying," Niles begged his father over his own tears as he sat down at the table, "I'm sorry about the things I said earlier, I didn't mean them."

"Yes you did!" Martin said, "You know what you psychiatrists are always saying, 'there are no accidents'."

Niles found his voice for a brief moment as he loudly replied, "Then that would mean I _wanted_ to be hit in the face with a baseball 50 times. Why would anybody _want_ that?"

"Don't ask me," Martin cried as he buried his face in the sleeve of his robe, " _You're_ the expert on human behavior!"

Frasier's bedroom door opened and he stormed out in the midst of tying his robe. "What in God's name is going on in this house? Doesn't anybody sleep at night?" he demanded to know, and in an equally demanding tone he added, "What the hell is going on around here?" and he turned on the lights.

The first thing he saw was his father sitting on the arm of the couch, with his face buried in his arm. The second thing he saw was his brother seated at the table, futilely trying to shield his face with one arm propped on the table.

"Oh my God, you're both crying," he said as he got in the middle of them, and looking from one to the other and back again, he didn't know who to ask first, so he addressed both of them and wanted to know, "What happened?" He started to feel his own voice choking as he said to them, "Why is everybody crying?"

Niles was near hyperventilating now and his voice raised and lowered and was sharp and then shallow as he got out his explanation of, "I-HURT-our-father, I-MADE—our father- _cry_!"

"I'm _not_ crying!" Martin weakly insisted.

"Well I am!" Niles wept from where he sat, "I'm the most ungrateful son there is!"

"I can never do anything right for my sons!" Martin sobbed.

Frasier looked back and forth at them and his own dam broke as he bust out bawling, "No one ever wants to come to my par-ties!"

The three Crane men remained in their separate corners as they all cried. Frasier felt his legs getting weak and he moved towards the couch and put his arm around his father and they cried in unison, Martin with his head slumped over and his face buried in his arm, Frasier with his whole upper body slumped over, and his face buried on his dad's shoulder. Finally, Niles got up from the table and went over to them.

"Dad, I am so sorry," he wept.

Martin picked his head up and said over his tears, "I'm sorry," and put his arm around Niles.

Frasier pulled away from both of them and sobbed, "I'm sorry I ever invented that stupid game! None of this would've happened", and his statement was followed up by his trademark "eeeeeeeewwggghhh" when his breached ethics made his stomach queasy. He retreated to the table and collapsed in the chair.

Martin hugged Niles and told him, "I love you, son."

"I love you too, Dad," Niles cried as he put his other arm around his father.

The two men continued to cry as Martin told him, "I was always proud of you."

Nile's voice was weak as he responded, "I was always proud of you too, you really are my hero."

The two of them cried harder as each tightened their embrace on the other.

* * *

"What is it about Halloween?" Frasier asked later when they'd finally stopped crying, and Martin suggested making some coffee and pouring some whiskey in to pick them all up. The three of them sat at the table waiting for the teakettle to scream. Frasier looked at his dad and his brother and said, "Nothing ever goes right on this night, somehow no matter what we do, it's _always_ a disaster."

"It's a curse," Niles said quietly, starting to feel the effects of his heavy drinking earlier that night.

"It has to be, there can be no other logical explanation," Frasier said, "remember five years ago when I accidentally told everybody at your party that Roz was pregnant?"

"Oh my God, and the jackass I made of myself because I thought Daphne was pregnant," Niles recalled.

"I remember the first Halloween we took Frederick trick-or-treating," Frasier said, "and we found out he was allergic to chocolate… _after_ he consumed a pound's worth of it from his treat bucket."

"Remember the first Halloween I was married to Maris?" Nile asked, "During our party we found out she was allergic to the pumpkin scented candles she'd ordered for the whole apartment. Her whole body swelled up so bad she had to be put into a size 2 gown at the hospital, I'd never seen her so bloated."

"I still wake up in the night sweating," Frasier said, "remembering that first Halloween I was out of college, somebody rang the doorbell, I opened the door, and _there_ ," he said in his most disgusted tone, "on the middle of the porch was a flaming brown paper bag of dog excrements! I couldn't sleep for a week after that."

"Oh," Niles thought, "do you remember the Halloween I was in the 3rd grade? Remember the incident with Aunt Louise's popcorn ball?"

Frasier folded his arms and replied defensively, "All I said was 'it seems to be made out of edible ingredients', _you're_ the one that tried ramming the whole thing into your mouth at once, and choking on the Red Hots."

Frasier moved his chair back and stood up, and changed subjects, "And tonight…what went wrong? Why is it no matter what I do for my Halloween parties, nobody ever wants to come? Somehow I'm supposed to believe everybody mysteriously gets sick right before they hop in the car to come on over here. Sure, I bought it the _first_ time that happened, but over the years it's lost its credibility."

"You don't want to know why nobody wants to come," Martin told him.

"Why?" Frasier asked, "Because everybody on my guest list thinks I'm a pretentious, snooty, stuck up society snob who wouldn't know a good time if it bit me in the ass?"

"Yep," Martin nodded, and explained, "Frasier, the people from the radio station don't have the same interests as you, they never did. You get all these ideas you think will be great for a party, and they _would_ if it was for people in your social circle, the kind of people you actually hang out with. Why don't you ever invite those people over?"

"They all get sick right before the party," Frasier answered, "even the people I can relate to don't want anything to do with me at my Halloween parties."

"Well you'd think that would tell you something," Martin said as he folded his arms against his chest, and addressed both his sons, "I know you guys always like to show off how smart and cultured you are, but when it's a party people just want to cut loose and have fun."

"We have fun," Niles said.

"Yeah, but nobody else does, that's the problem," Martin said, "you guys want to be popular, you want people to like you? You gotta learn how to mingle."

Niles and Frasier looked at each other and Niles said hopelessly, "Well, if we haven't learned that by now we probably never will."

"Don't be so sure," Martin said as he stood up to pour the coffee, "when I met your mother we instantly hit it off, but we actually had very little in common to begin with. She was devoted to her work, _very_ serious, very professional, of course you boys have to understand a woman psychiatrist working in a man's field at the time, your mother had to work twice as hard as the men just to be taken as seriously as they were. It took her a long time to realize she could loosen up and cut up with everyone else, but when she finally did, she could cut up with the best of 'em."

The brothers looked at each other and looked back at their father as he poured three mugs of coffee and poured varying amounts of whiskey into each mug and took them back to the table and doled them out.

"Oh," Niles moved back in his chair, "I really don't think I should, I'm starting to…"

"Drink it," Martin told him, "it'll help with that hangover."

"Well…alright," he said uncertainly.

"So what you're saying is that we're like Mom was," Frasier said, "we've spent all our lives working harder than everyone else because we wanted to be taken as seriously as everyone else, as opposed to the constant jokes we were made out to be all throughout our school years."

"No, you worked harder because you wanted to be taken _more_ seriously than everyone else," Martin answered as he sat back down, "you've always had this need to lord your knowledge over everybody else's heads to feel superior. As smart as you are, you ought to know that that's the worst way to try and get people to like you."

Frasier sighed, "I know, I guess we've always known, we just can't help it."

"Well maybe you should try working on it," Martin said, "you know sometimes when you're chatting with people, all they want to talk about is a ball game, or a movie _not_ foreign or musical, or their dogs." Martin caught the mutual look the two gave each other and he told them, "Knock it off, pets are a very big part of people's lives."

"I guess we could try sometime," Frasier said hesitantly, "it already feels weird."

"Look, Frasier, that game you had tonight was a good idea," Martin said, "it's a brilliant idea to be your favorite hero for Halloween, but you got to tone down the academic side of it, just make it fun."

"Well," Frasier's eyes sparked, "does that mean you guys would be willing to do it again next year?"

"No," Martin and Niles told him.

The spark died out as Frasier turned to the side and said to himself, "Of course, what else?"

"Look guys," Martin said, "next year I think instead of us coming to your party," he said to Frasier, then turned to Niles, "or us going to your party, maybe we should try something completely different."

"Like what?" Frasier asked.

"Oh, I know," Niles said in a deadpan tone, "We'll get some masks and go door to door and say we're 6th graders who had a massive growth spurt."

Martin chuckled, "That wasn't quite what I had in mind….but that might not be a bad idea."

"Well what'd you have in mind, Dad?" Frasier asked.

"Oh I don't know," Martin replied, "maybe I'll take you boys out to the cemetery and show you the graves of some of the homicides I worked."

"Dad, I reiterate a previous statement of mine," Frasier said, "You _are_ a ghoul."

"I'm just kidding," he said, "Maybe we should try going out to somebody else's party."

"Whose?" Frasier asked.

"I don't know," Martin said, "we'll ask around, there's always plenty of people having a party for Halloween, it'd be a great way to meet new people, and when you're not the host, you don't feel any pressure to make everything perfect, all you have to do is be a guest, enjoy yourself…"

"Oh, and mingle with the crowd," Niles said.

"Exactly."

"Well," Frasier looked like he'd rather eat a frog, "I suppose we can give it a try."

"Sure, and think about it, Frase," his dad told him, "if we go to somebody else's party, you stand a good chance of meeting a whole new bunch of women."

A small smile formed on his lips at that thought. "Yeah, I guess that's a good point."

"And you might hit it off with one of them and have a great time," Martin added.

The smile got bigger. "Yeah."

"Think about it, a whole new batch of lonely, single women who listen to your show every day and regard you as the biggest celebrity of all Seattle," Martin said, gesturing with his hands so as to conceal the slight roll of his eyes.

Frasier took the bait hook, line and sinker. "Oh _yes_! I'm in!" He came back down off the jolt of that idea, and in his normal tone again he said, "I suppose it could be worth trying, tonight was certainly a bust, the party _and_ the trick-or-treaters. I don't understand what's gotten into all the children in this building, somehow they've all conceived this notion that I'm some sort of undead monster who sucks brains out of people's heads."

"Oh!" Niles looked at him, "So that's why they all ran out screaming when you _ripped_ my scalp off."

"I did not!" Frasier replied, "but yes, that's precisely what it was all about. 'Old Man Crane' they're calling me. Where do you suppose such a preposterous notion ever got started?"

Martin subtly turned his head to the side and looked to the corner of the kitchen.

A moment passed and all three Crane men let go of their hard feelings for the events of the night and had a good laugh about it.

"I think you're right, Dad," Frasier said, "I think next year we'll try something different."

"Yes, just being one of the guys," Niles added.

"Alright," Martin looked at the clock and said, "It's late, let's just go to bed."

They got up from the table, Frasier went back to his room and bid them goodnight, leaving just Martin and Niles in the living room.

"Dad," Niles said, "I really am sorry."

"Ah, it's water under the bridge," Martin told him.

"Are we good?" Niles asked.

Martin looked at him for a moment, and answered with a small smile, "We're getting there." Martin leaned over and kissed Niles on the side of his forehead and said, "Goodnight, son."

"Goodnight, Dad," Niles said as he went to make up his bed on the couch.

Before Martin could reach his bedroom, both men were alerted to the sound of Frasier screaming in his room.

"Daaaaaaaaaad!" Frasier yelled as he got to the door and threw it open, "EDDIE-IN-MY-BED-LICKING ME!"

Martin laughed and turned to Niles and said, "Well, I guess there was one trick left for Halloween."

Niles looked down to cover the fact he couldn't keep a straight face, and his voice was only slightly choked by laughter as he replied, "I guess so. Happy Halloween, Dad."

Martin got Eddie and returned to his room, shut the door, and went back to bed. He didn't fall asleep immediately, so he lay awake, staring at the ceiling.

"They're good boys, Hester," he said, "I _was_ always proud of them, you know that. Oh sure, I was disappointed they never had any interest in sports, or anything else that ever meant anything to me, but I was always proud of them, they always did their best no matter what they did, _that's_ something to be proud of. They've worked hard their whole lives, really made something of themselves, I know they get cocky about their achievements but…I hope _they're_ as proud of themselves as I am."

Martin closed his eyes, and in a few minutes was sound asleep.

* * *

"Oh yes, Daphne, they're doing much better this morning," Frasier said on his phone the next day, "but…I do believe Niles was right in staying here for the night…no, he was alright through the night but early this morning…"

The noise of Niles violently retching from behind the bathroom door finished Frasier's statement for him.

"Yes, all those beers last night…oh yes," he said to Daphne, "quite a way to be waken up at the crack of dawn…anyway, he's going to shake it off here and he'll probably be home tonight. Uh huh…yes, I'll give him your love…what? Grammy Moon's what? And that helps a hangover?" Frasier made a face as he thought it over. "Okay, we can try it. Bye-bye, Daph."

"Morning, Frase," Martin said as he came out of the kitchen.

"Oh, morning, Dad," Frasier replied, "How're you today?"

"Never better," Martin answered with a grin as he headed over to the bathroom, "is he still in there?"

He got his answer when they both heard Niles doing his own version of Frasier's "eeeeeeeewwggghhh" from behind the door.

"That answer your question?" Frasier asked.

"Yeah." Martin opened the door and went in and found Niles on his knees all but hugging the toilet as he waited to see if his body was done running him through the wringer yet.

"Morning, son," Martin said, "how're you doing?"

Niles glared at him through the corners of his eyes and weakly asked, "Is that a trick question? I thought you said that coffee last night would help."

"It did," Martin answered as he sat on the edge of the bathtub, "just imagine how much worse you'd be today if you didn't drink it."

Niles groaned and leaned over the toilet again.

"Oh Niles," Martin said nonchalantly.

Niles wretched, "Yeah, Dad?"

" _Now_ we're good," he answered.

Niles groaned in an even deeper tone.

"Happy Halloween, son," Martin stood up and headed out of the bathroom.

* * *

Niles stayed on the bathroom floor for most of the morning, finally around noon he crawled back to the couch to try and sleep off the rest of his hangover. Frasier had left a few hours ago to go do his radio show, Martin had stayed in the apartment that day, most of it was confined to his bedroom. He came out around noon and quietly made his lunch so as not to wake up Niles. After lunch he decided to take Eddie for a walk, but on his way to get the leash, he passed by the couch and saw Niles curled up in the fetal position, hugging one of the pillows behind his head. Martin smiled to himself and headed over to the linen closet and returned with a blanket and draped it over the sleeping figure of his son, who never moved. He hadn't minded Niles suffering the full effects of his heavy drinking from the night before, he figured it would give Niles an idea of how bad he'd made him feel the night before. But though Martin was a little vindictive, he wasn't heartless. He reached down and stroked Niles' head a couple of times, Niles didn't even move. Martin leaned over and kissed Niles on the top of his head, as he used to do when Niles was a little boy and used to fall asleep waiting for Martin to get home from his patrol beat.

"Sleep tight, son," he said quietly, and went to get Eddie.


End file.
